Friday, April 5, 2013

Desire nothing

Desire nothing 

Desire nothing, You say.  But ...
my house is built on desire --

a caravanserai of ceaseless coming
and goings, of compacts, treaties,

agreements and arrangements.
Perhaps, o wanderer, you've left your house

and now haunt the tombs of saints,
study the scriptures, indulge in the sweet

intoxication of prayer; perhaps
you've renounced worldly indulgences

to take up spiritual indulgences.
Perhaps, you covet love now ...

liberation, peace, paradise ...
the imagined glory

of your own eventual Godhood.
Desire nothing, You say.  But ...

my house is a ruin on the side of the highway
travelers tromp through on their way

to presumed important appointments,
thrilling adventures and soul-serving endeavors.

They often invite me along.  Even my
entrenchment and intransigency is desire.

O child of God, hold your tongue.  Desire nothing ...
because, nothing is withheld.


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